Overcoming Obstacles
by curiositykilledtheblank
Summary: Itori Nakamura has a secret - a secret she's tried desperately to keep hidden behind her stockings for years. But Shuichi Minamino has a juicier one of his own, one she's determined to find out. When she saves the life of someone he deeply cares for, she'll find herself the victim of the "alien" man's curiousity, and secrets are no longer safe. Neither is her life. KuramaOC
1. Family

**Authoress Note: **Just to clarify, my female lead _doesn't_ have a penis. In case anyone jumped to that conclusion. And Shuichi isn't actually an alien. Also, apologies in advance if there are any 'Krystals' out there who were offended by my subtle Mary-Sue jab.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, nor am I making any profit from this, blah blah. The only things I own are my original characters, and I'm doing this because writing pleases me.**  
**

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Chapter One;

**"Family"**

**POV: Itori**

* * *

_Shin and Maya Nakamura cordially invite you to join them in celebrating their daughter Seira's seventeenth birthday._

The invitation wasn't necessary, and neither was the phony "cordial" tone. Without pretence, the card would have read something like:

_Your parents demand you attend your sister's damn birthday dinner, or we won't shut up about it for years._

To the outside world my family was proper and courteous and they had to maintain that appearance at all times, which was reflected even in the gold-trimmed, flimsy piece of white cardboard I'd long since scrunched up and thrown out the car window. I only saw my family three times a year, and even that felt like an eternity in Hell. I had to attend my parents' and younger sister's ridiculously elaborate birthday dinners, even though they never made an attempt to visit me when my special time of the year rolled around, although that was something of a blessing. But I wasn't alone; my older brother, Takeshi, also received the same treatment, though he was more stoic and accepting of the emotional manhandling than I was. He'd been raised to appear serious and professional at all times, but he had a soft spot in his heart for his black sheep of a little sister.

I slumped back against the car seat, rubbing my temples vigorously. Just imagining the faces of my family was giving me a headache. "Are you sure I can't just call in sick? Tell them I have something contagious? Tell them I'm _dead_?"

My older brother's neutral expression remained unchanged. "No. Just be glad they don't call for us more often."

Takeshi didn't like visiting family any more than I did. He was a very powerful man – and he even owned the apartment building I lived in – but our parents still found something to hold against him, and that was his homosexuality. In their minds they held a firm belief that any same-sex partnership he pursued would not last, that he was only deluding himself, even though he'd been in a committed relationship to the same man for over four years. In a way, he had it rougher. While I subtly got reminded tri-annually that I was a disappointment to the family, our parents would always rip into the person he loved more than life itself. Despite this, he remained ever poised and affable at these gatherings. His unshakeable self-control was what made him an effective business man.

The half-hour drive always felt like a few lousy minutes, and before I knew it Takeshi was pulling his car into the driveway. I stared blankly out the window. The sheer size of our old home reminded me of the life I could have lived, had it not been for my accident. It also reminded me of a time I once thought our manor was the most luxurious thing in the world and that I wanted one just like it for myself, but now I was simply disgusted by it. My family was wealthy and I hated it. I fixed my thick, grey thigh socks before stepping out of the car. Takeshi adjusted his suit tie before ringing the doorbell. The wait on the doorstep was the worst part. We both knew that there was a maid waiting on the other side of the door, but that she'd been instructed to wait a set amount of time before answering.

_Three, two, one..._

On time, the door swung open to reveal a young, short-haired handmaid. It was a new woman every time we visited, and I swore the outfits were getting smaller by the centimetre. Marital problems, I hoped bitterly. She greeted us with a respectful bow before leading us inside. The other three members of our immediate family were already seated at the dinner table with a plate full of food in front of them. Mother looked up at us and frowned.

"You're late," she said.

_We would have been here a minute earlier if your little maid had opened the door when we buzzed,_ I wanted to say, but held my tongue. "Sorry, mother, it was my fault. My tardiness caused us to hit traffic."

The bitter lilt in my voice hit deaf ears or was ignored, and mother began reprimanding the help for not having us seated already. Only a whole lot of sake could have made the night less painful, but since my sister was not of the drinking age the best thing I could do was sip water in a wine glass and try to trick my body into believing it was something alcoholic or poisonous. I was fairly certain Seira wasn't keen on these family dinners either, but she was always so proper and never complained about anything, which made her the apple of our parents' eyes.

"Seira is doing exceptionally well in her language and literature classes," father said, breaking the silence I was trying desperately to hold on to. "One of her English essays is actually being published overseas."

"Congratulations," I said, trying to sound as genuine and interested as possible. I really didn't care, though.

"And she's found a man," he added with a tiny smirk. "He's a journalist from America."

I could almost feel the cogs in my brain halt for a minute as I tried to process that new information. My seventeen-year-old sister was dating a journalist, possibly a much older man, from America. _America_. I've hated foreigners with a passion ever since high-school when a blue-eyed, golden-haired brazen hussy transferred from the States and stole my long-term boyfriend from me. The most insulting thing about the incident was that her name was _Krystal_. With a 'K'. English may not have been my strongest subject in school, but even I knew that was just plain stupid. The whole thing occurred about seven years ago, but I was still a little bitter about it. Takeshi also seemed to be at a loss for words, though for different reasons. It wasn't like our parents to be so accepting or supportive of teenage romances.

"What about you, Itori?" I stiffened when mother narrowed her attention on me. "Have you found a man yet, or are you still sleeping around?"

I almost choked on my water. Mother was once a masterful weaver of condescension disguised as amiability, but old age was making her less elegant. My sex life was also hardly any of her business, nor was it dinner talk. I wanted to reply, but any words that came out of my mouth would only become the shovel that would dig my grave of shame. When she realised I wasn't going to give her a response, she turned her vindictive gaze to Takeshi. Both of us knew what she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.

"And you, Takeshi? Have you found a nice woman yet?"

She would ask the same question three times a year, and he'd give her the same response as always. "I'm still with Hideo."

Every single time he would give the same answer, and the conversation would dwindle into nothingness. They had never met the man and they most likely never would. I, on the other hand, had. Hideo really was a lovely man, hardly deserving of their vitriol, but he seemed to be the complete opposite of my brother. Where Takeshi was always placid and calculating, Hideo was a little more impulsive and extroverted. However, they'd been madly in love for quite some time. Their relationship was living proof that sometimes opposites really did attract. The conversation eventually sparked back to life when father asked Takeshi about his work and vice versa. I'd been working at a pharmacy for the past two years, and that seemed to really hammer home yet another nail of disappointment into the coffin they'd long since buried the person I was supposed to become.

After poking at my uneaten food with a chopstick long enough, mother ordered that our plates be taken away and dessert was announced to be ready in twenty minutes, giving us time to reconvene in the lounge so we could keep pretending to care about each other. I managed to steal away during one of my father's long-winded speeches about his career and soon found myself standing in my old bedroom again. It almost felt like a shrine dedicated to my old self – the Itori who had a promising future ahead of her.

I used to be one of the best tennis players at school. I was going to pursue sport as my career, which disappointed mother greatly because she'd wanted me to take an interest in something a little more feminine, like art or music. My father, however, was thrilled and he supported me... up until the event that shattered my life. After that, my parents weren't really sure what to do with me. I walked slowly through my old purple room, tracing my fingers along the frame of my bed, the dusty tops of my bookshelves and finally coming to a stop at my trophy cabinet. You weren't a true Nakamura if you didn't have trophies. My awards were all sports-related. They weren't nearly as impressive or numerous as Seira's or even Takeshi's academic awards. Something cold and bitter gripped my heart. Jealousy. I would never amount to anything in the eyes of my family.

"Stop living in the past, dear sister, or you'll never be able to redeem yourself."

The feminine voice jolted me from my thoughts and I spun around to see Seira leaning against my door frame, arms folded loosely. She seemed mildly amused.

"What are you doing here, Seira?" I asked coarsely.

Her mouth turned upwards a little, menacingly. "Every time you're roped back here by our parents you come back to your old room to dwell. It's foolish, really. That's why you don't accomplish anything anymore. That's why I'm better than you."

I frowned. "A person's accomplishments aren't measured by how many trophies they have. I left the family before they could brainwash me into becoming some elitist cretin – I see there's no saving you."

"Those thigh-highs you love so much don't hide your leg very well," she retorted dryly. "It looks chunky. Oh, I think I can see scars."

I could feel my heart suddenly jump into my throat. "Piss off, Seira."

She chuckled at my response and brushed a loose strand of brown hair from her shoulder. "You'll never be the same person you were before the attack, sister. But you know, it's not too late to save yourself from a lifetime of failure. You'll never be at my level, but it's better than filling prescriptions for dying old women."

"I'd choose dying old women over my family any day," I snorted. "They're more respectful than you'll ever be. And they even look better."

There was a malicious glint in Seira's eye. When we lived together we were always squabbling and insulting each other behind our parents' backs. Only it wasn't like a normal sibling rivalry where we swore at each other like sailors and were inseparable the next minute, it was a genuine hatred. The two of us had never co-operated. We hadn't been raised to get along with other people, only be better than them. My sister embraced the lifestyle more than I ever could, and that's why she succeeded me. She didn't have pesky emotions slowing her down like I did.

"I've always wondered..." Seira started slowly before she pulled herself from the doorway and almost danced over to where I stood. "What does it feel like? Does it feel like something is there? Or does it feel empty?"

A bitter smile pulled at my lips. "If you touch my leg, you'll find out how it feels for yourself."

At times it seemed like Seira enjoyed taunting me, trying to bring me close to my snapping point, but she also had her limit. And I'm sure she fancied having an arm, too. Her features lightened. "Dessert will be ready shortly."

"I'm not hungry," I sighed and pushed past Seira. "Takeshi has my present for you. I'll see you in three months. Happy birthday."

I never liked family dinners.

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Next chapter: **"Saviour"**


	2. Saviour

**Authoress Note:** I've been flipping through some amazing YYH stories/doujinshi and reading up on other people's OCs the past few days, and it inspired me to spice my story up a little more, as you'll soon see. I also had a very, _very_ chirpy guinea pig on my lap as I re-wrote half of this, so I hope it's not too horrible. And thank you nevvy and Random~ You'll get to find out what happened to her soon. Hope I don't disappoint. ;hearts

Stuff actually happens this time.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, nor am I making any profit from this, blah blah. The only things I own are my original characters, and I'm doing this because writing is love.

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Chapter Two;

"**Saviour"**

**POV: Itori**

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Naturally, the following morning I received an angry phone call from mother, who chided me in that special motherly way of hers for leaving early without informing anyone, and for abandoning my sister during a "fragile" time in her life. Takeshi, being the only member of the family who actually cared about me, dropped by my apartment to make sure I was okay after the festivities and falsities had let up. My family's behaviour left a bitter taste in my mouth that would probably linger for a few days, as it usually did, but I refused to let it show. Baggage was something you left at home stuffed in the closet, not something you lugged around with you to work. I may not have been a lawyer or a super-professional anything as my parents had intended, but I prided myself in my job and my customers seemed to enjoy the company as well. I wasn't about to ruin my good reputation by being a grump.

The first half of the day was always relatively slow, with it picking up at around midday when most people poured into the mall to do their shopping, and working men eagerly started their lunch breaks. After lunch the customers became scarce again, only to mob once more in the afternoon when students were let out of school. I had it easy as a pharmacist, working only six hours a day and four days a week, because no one wanted me to be on my feet longer than necessary, though I would have liked for more hours. Even though my brother owned the apartment I lived in I still had to pay rent – albeit at a slightly reduced cost – and buy food for myself and my chubby little room mate. If anything, reduced work hours were doing more harm than good.

I'd been manning the counter for a majority of the day, occasionally stacking shelves and taking blood pressures when my co-workers were swamped under, and it was certainly the best part of my job. If there was no one else waiting in line I was able to chat up my customers, which most of them seemed to enjoy. The elderly were especially chatty, and they loved a good gossip almost as much as I did. I'd always considered myself a people-person, and I felt like that was the only thing about me that hadn't changed after my accident. My leg ached slightly in remembrance, and so did my bladder for a completely different reason.

I stepped out from behind the counter and waved my hand to catch the attention of one of my colleagues. "Hitomi, can you watch the counter for me again?"

"Gods, you're like a freaking fountain," the bespectacled woman mumbled at me, begrudgingly taking my place. "I swear you do this just to spite me."

Being the mischievous scamp I was, I blew her a kiss before bouncing out of the pharmacy and heading for the nearest restroom. As fun as tormenting her was, I didn't want her frightening away our patrons with her "doom aura", as I'd dubbed it, so I made sure not to dawdle. Unlike me, Hitomi hated being stuck behind the desk because it meant she had to eventually interact with other living beings, and she wasn't nearly as charismatic or talkative as I was. She preferred to avoid most human interaction where she could, and spent most of her time camped out in the back rooms. I could only imagine what kind of comical horror she was unleashing upon the next poor soul that dared to step up to the counter. Synced perfectly with my imaginary scenario, a mix of terrified screams from outside resounded within the restroom. I finished up in record time and poked my head out into the hallway to look for the cause. A small group of people had gathered around a body on the floor, and my heart stopped momentarily. What the hell had happened?

As I approached the scene I pieced together snippets of chatter.

"...she just..."

"...collapsed..."

"...so suddenly..."

"...call an ambulance...!"

My initial thought was that someone had had a heart attack, and I pushed through the thickening crowd of bystanders. I wasn't a take-charge kind of person, but I was being driven mostly by impulse. Work required that I be trained to handle all sorts of emergencies, and it was more than likely that I was the only person in the immediate area who had some inkling of what to do. I hurried over to the body, and my blood rapidly turned to ice when I identified the unconscious person's face.

"_Shiori_?!"

Shiori Minamino frequented the pharmacy once a week to refill a prescription, buy pain medication or just to have her blood pressure checked at the urging of her husband, who was currently bent over her and desperately trying to wake her up. I quickly crouched down on the other side of her body and he looked up at me, fear staining his glassy eyes. My heart broke with his next words.

"She's... not breathing," he stammered, "and I can't find her pulse anywhere."

Instinctively, I felt around the centre of her chest and layered my trembling hands one on top of the other in the appropriate spot. Everyone loved Shiori, myself included. I couldn't live with myself if anything were to happen to her in my presence. "It'll be okay, Kazuya," I said, trying to sound as confident and reassuring as possible, though I couldn't even fool myself. "Make sure someone _does_ call for an ambulance."

Compressions first. My whole body surged with adrenaline. I'd never administered CPR on an actual person before, just practise dummies, and having to use it for the first time on someone I cared for cruelly reminded me of my inexperience. I kept my compressions firm, hoping her ribs could withstand the pressure. It was a horrible thing to admit, but I would have had an easier time keeping a clear head if it had been a complete stranger laying before me. It wouldn't have hurt nearly as much if I'd lost them.

..._twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty._

Still no response. The basics from class had been branded into the back of my mind: _tilt head back, close nostrils, breathe into mouth twice, follow up with more compressions_. I was beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy myself, but I kept my efforts up.

A lady slowly stepped up beside us, a phone to her ear. "A-an ambulance will be here in a couple of minutes..." she said shakily.

"Okay." I shut everything else out while I concentrated. The only things I were aware of were a frantic Kazuya, a motionless Shiori, my panicking heartbeat, and how godawful I would feel if I messed up and killed the woman beneath me. The ever growing flock of terrified bystanders didn't exist in my focused world. I knew all too well that there was a hospital close by, merely a couple of blocks away from the mall, but the close proximity didn't reassure me. Even though professional help was so close, I couldn't let my guard down. I couldn't give saving Shiori anything less than my all.

_...twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-_

A sound rumbled deep in Shiori's throat, and I stopped pushing down on her chest. Her eyes cracked open.

"She's barely conscious!" the lady next to me exclaimed, partly to the operator on the line and partly to the people circled around us.

Without a second thought, I unbuttoned my white uniform coat and gently laid it on top of Shiori to keep her warm, if only for a few minutes. "You'll be okay, Shiori," I told her gently. "An ambulance is on its way here."

The dark-haired woman exhaled sharply and tilted her head to the side, taking notice of the strangers gathered around her and the panicked husband by her side. She smiled weakly. "My... it seems I've caused a commotion."

The adrenaline slowly drained from my veins, leaving my whole body feeling nauseous and shaky. I watched as Shiori's husband grabbed her hands and squeezed them, and I listened to his half-coherent prayers to the divine Gods above, begging them to have mercy on his wife. The outside world slowly blossomed back into existence and I could vaguely make out the sound of sirens chirping outside. Someone rubbed my back gently, and I was surprised to see Hitomi leaning over me. I had no idea how long she'd been standing there, and I didn't have the voice to ask. Shiori's condition seemed to stabilise a little, at least, but she was still incredibly weak and faint. It didn't take much longer for the paramedics to arrive on the scene. Hitomi helped me to my feet so I could give them room to work.

"That was an incredibly brave thing you just did," she said, jabbing me in the stomach. "I probably would have fainted."

"I feel like I'm going to," I muttered, holding my head. "I didn't think she was going to regain consciousness."

"Well, Shiori's a fighter," she replied, wrapping her arm around mine and tugging me away. "There's not much else we can do for her right now, though. You can visit her after your shift ends. Even heroes don't get to leave work early."

I scrunched my face up at her. "You just don't want to be stuck at the desk any longer."

* * *

I was a mess for the remainder of my shift. People came up to me after Shiori had been taken away to compliment me on handling the emergency so well, but I didn't feel worthy of their words and I brushed the praise aside. If anything, I felt like I could have handled the situation a whole lot better, had I not been a nervous wreck. I wasn't cut out to be a hero – a saviour – and if by some cruel twist of fate something similar were to happen again, I could only hope that someone more experienced and confident would be close by to take the lead. The attention my "heroics" had garnered was beginning to make me feel very awkward.

The bus ride hadn't been much kinder to me either, and not because it was so crowded that a random stranger had to spoon me so I'd fit. That happened on an almost daily basis. The bus I caught home passed by the hospital, so my usual rendezvous with some young man's front end was cut pleasantly short. I stumbled off the vehicle and headed towards the hospital entrance. At the same time, I pulled my clunky mobile from my bag and punched in a few numbers. It rang three times before someone answered.

"_Hey, sparrow. What's up?_" Hideo sounded as cheerful as ever.

"Can you pick me up from the hospital?" I asked, entering the lobby.

His voice dropped a little. "_What happened? Are you okay?_"

"Oh, no, I'm fine," I hastily responded. "A friend of mine had a heart attack and I'm just checking up on her."

The man perked up again. "_All right, good samaritan. I'll be there in twenty._"

I'd walked the halls of this hospital many times before, but never to visit another person. The sterile air stirred up a few unpleasant memories in my mind, but I pushed them back quickly enough and stashed them in the darker recesses of my mind. I was here to visit Shiori, not indulge my masochism and re-visit the past. A young woman smiled at me as I approached the reception desk and signalled that she'd only be a moment. After typing a few things into her computer, she turned to me.

"How can I help?"

"I'm looking for a woman who was admitted this afternoon... Shiori Minamino."

"Mi-na-mi-no," she mumbled to herself, her fingers dancing gracefully across the keyboard. "Minamino. Here we go. Your friend is on the fifth floor, room 501."

I thanked the receptionist quickly and headed for the elevator. Every time I was admitted, the doctors had me staying in the same room on the same floor – floor four, room eleven. The morbidly curious part of me wanted to visit room 411, but I pushed onwards to the floor Shiori was being kept on. She was my priority. As the elevator doors opened, the first things to hit me were the blips of heart monitors and IV machines, and that itself was enough to fill my nostalgia quota. I side-stepped a couple of nurses and stopped outside of Shiori's room. Peeking through the blurry door window, I barely made out the figure of her husband and two non-uniformed men, who I could only assume were the two sons she often gushed about. I almost felt a little rude intruding on them, but I wanted to make sure she was all right. I cracked open the door and knocked gently, catching the attention of everyone but Shiori, who was sleeping in her hospital bed. At least, I _hoped_ she was only sleeping.

"May I come in?" I asked meekly through the crack. Kazuya looked a little surprised to see me, and then relieved. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled and beckoned me in. I opened the door further and slid inside, shutting it quietly behind me. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. How is she?"

"She's resting now, but the doctors said she's going to make a full recovery. They're letting her out tomorrow morning," he said, before standing from his seat and placing his hands on my shoulders. "Thank you, Itori. Thank you for saving my wife. If there's anything I can ever do to repay you..."

His voice cracked suddenly, and the two strange-looking men turned their undivided attention towards us. I suddenly felt very small beneath their collective gazes. It wasn't me who had saved her life, I wanted desperately to say. The hospital staff did all of the hard work - I only warmed Shiori up for them. Before my nervous brain could muster up a decently humble response, Kazuya hugged me. I felt the blood rush to my face. The intense feelings of gratitude from Shiori's husband made me feel slightly more awkward than the admiration I'd received from complete strangers, and I could only chalk that up to my deep-seated parent issues. I patted the man's back slowly, unsure of what else to do. Eventually he pulled away, but my face hadn't had enough time to match the colour of the rest of my body. The brown-haired son chuckled quietly, finding my reaction either hilarious or endearing, and hugged me as well, though not as long as his father had. He pushed something white into my hands.

"I believe this is yours, Miss Itori. We really appreciate you sparing it for the day."

My coat. I'd almost completely forgotten about it. "Thanks," I said, sliding it on over my orange work blouse.

Being confined in a small room with Shiori's family was a strange thing, and not just because her scarlet-haired son hadn't uttered a single word, content to just stare me down when he wasn't watching his mother for signs of consciousness. The way they patiently waited by her side, stroking her hair and occasionally leaning down to whisper something into her ear as if she could hear them felt... intimate. The familial connection they shared with one another was something I was not a part of, something I was an outsider to, even within my own family. My bag suddenly vibrated and I fished out my buzzing phone.

One unread text from Hideo.

**Be outside in a few.**

I dropped it back into the depths of my bag and readjusted the strap on my shoulder. I didn't want to feel like an intruder any longer. "I'm glad to hear she'll be okay. Can you tell her I dropped by when she wakes up?"

Kazuya smiled and nodded again before returning his attention to his sleeping wife. I bowed quickly to the other two men before slipping out of the room. When I shut the door behind me I felt a huge weight lift itself from my chest, making it easier for me to breathe again. My insides bubbled with glee. Shiori was going to be all right. My feeble attempts hadn't condemned her. The door to her room opened again, and her red-haired son stepped outside. His face brightened ever so slightly when he saw I was still nearby.

"Thank you," he said, "for saving her. If we can repay you in any way, please, don't hesitate to let us know."

"Just take care of her. She means a lot to me, too."

The corner of his lips turned up a little and he gave me what could have been described as a hug, but also not at the same time – his front ghosted mine and he tilted his head down, gently placing his hand on my shoulder. He smelt... nice. It was a strange thing to notice, but then again any scent that wasn't "hospitalised" was immediately welcome. I would have appreciated the strange gesture for more than just a few seconds, had his knee not somehow grazed against my right leg. I stiffened immediately at the contact, a motion that didn't seem to go unnoticed by him. He didn't comment on it, however, and only smiled.

"Take care, Itori. I imagine we'll be meeting again soon," he said mysteriously before disappearing back into his mother's hospital room.

I stood there for a minute, dumbfounded and paralysed. Was his brushing against my leg really just an accident, or had he done it on purpose? There was no way he could have known; I was being paranoid. I shook my head and made my way back to the elevator.

What a weird man.

* * *

Next chapter: **"Legs"**

**Additional note:** Apparently when Shiori was first seen in the anime, she was in hospital room 501.


	3. Teeth

**Authoress Note: **I am so sorry for the delay! I was pretty much bedridden this past month with a severe chest infection and head cold that just would not quit. I'm still not completely healed, but I _had_ to update when I saw how many people had reviewed, favourited and followed. Seriously, I love you guys. I started brainstorming new ideas for the story, but it got a little messy so I think I'll save those for new future stories.

Also, I changed the chapter name because I thought it fit more. You'll still get answers to your questions, but more will arise, ohoho. Ahem. Poor Itori gets her ass handed to her suddenly at the end. I love torturing my OCs.

Warning: I bumped the rating up to M prematurely because of all the violence and blood in the last half of this chapter, just to be safe.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own anything.

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Chapter Three;

"**Teeth"**

**POV: Itori**

* * *

Thursday was my second favourite day of the week for one reason: it came right before Friday, which marked for me the passing of another working week and opened its arms to welcome two blissful, stress-free days. And, after the rather eventful week I'd been having – a bitter family reunion Sunday; saving a woman's life on Monday; slaving away on Tuesday and Wednesday to re-arrange the store and appease our new manager – I was looking forward to being lazy. If I wasn't purposely trying to be a social pariah, I would be going out on Saturday for a drink or twelve while searching for someone new to keep me warm for the night, and I'd spend Sunday assuaging the regular feelings of shame and guilt by doing charity work to remind myself that I wasn't a terrible human being. This weekend, however, was reserved for experimental cooking, eating bad food and watching television with Sumotaro, the hamster who could probably eat a whole cow and then some.

My stomach growled loudly at the thought of food and I clamped my hands down on it, hoping to smother the sound. I had been in a mad rush to get myself ready this morning, as I'd somehow slept right through my alarm, and had no time to grab anything to eat. Because of my tardiness I'd been running on empty all morning, which my body was not accustomed to. My half-hour break was slowly approaching, painfully so, and Hitomi was adamant on not letting me leave until it was 12:30pm _sharp_. No amount of pouting or sweet-talking had changed her mind. However, I refused to accept my fate of being made to wait four extra minutes and opted to stare intently at the stern woman as she worked, hoping she'd get sick of me and tell me off.

If you dared to look at her for longer than a second you would discover that she was actually a very attractive woman—I almost envied her. Not once had I seen her cut her black hair since I began working alongside her, and its length was well past her waist. Instead of showing it off, though, she usually kept it in a tight bun on top of her head, adorned with two red chopsticks. Coupled with the thin-framed glasses that protected her piercing black eyes, she looked very professional.

Eventually she turned her head to glare at me. "All right, go away. You've made your point."

Success.

With the way my stomach had been carrying on all day, one might have thought I was dying. Even _I_ briefly thought so. Sadly, because of the time, many of the food stalls had lines so long that I would be forced to wait twenty odd minutes before being able to actually place an order. The only shops that weren't flooded with people were all foreign, and I outright _refused_ to eat their food. With a sigh I ran my fingers back through my hair – worst case scenario, I'd go buy a couple of peaches from one of the fruit vendors outside.

But the Gods had a different idea in mind for me.

"It seems like you'll have a hard time getting something to eat," someone whispered in my ear, and I bristled at the feeling of the stranger's hot breath against the side of my face.

Perhaps a little too quickly I whirled around to face the invader of my personal space, almost tripping over my own two feet in the process. I was gobsmacked. "Y-you're one of Shiori's sons."

"Shuichi," the man introduced, his demeanour quickly switching from impish to polite, as he held a plastic bag in front of me. "Hungry?"

Before I could open my mouth to reply, my stomach decided to speak for me in its deep, booming voice. The scarlet-haired man simply smiled and I could feel the blood rush to my face. He ushered me towards a two-seated table that, somehow, hadn't been occupied and set the plastic bag down. Certainly, he hadn't lied when he said that we would meet again – I was a little curious as to how he found me and why he was even here to begin with, but I wasn't going to risk jeopardising the free food. From out of the bag he pulled a styrofoam container and a pair of chopsticks, which he handed to me. He retrieved his own lunch and began eating. I would have joined him, but a small letter on the lid of the box had my attention instantly. In neat hand-writing:

_Hope you enjoy the food Itori! You're welcome at our house any time -^^-_

_-Shiori_

I imagined this was how a child felt when they discovered their mother had packed their favourite meal for lunch and left them an accompanying note. No such thing had ever been left for me when I attended school, and I had always been secretly jealous whenever my friends read theirs out to me. I lifted the lid and was met with a face full of steam and the smell of curry rice. When the vapour cleared I realised Shuichi had been staring at me, much like the first time we'd met.

"Did Shiori make this for me?" It was a stupid question, but it was all my overwhelmed mind could muster.

"Yes," he replied. "When I dropped by to check on her she asked me if I could give this to you."

It would have been rude not to eat something made for me, I decided, so I dug my chopsticks in and took a relatively large bite. "Mmph!" I clapped a hand over my mouth. "Holy crap, this is _amazing_," I managed to say with a mouth full of food. "Your mother's a culinary genius."

Shuichi seemed pleased to hear it, and also a little amused at my reaction. "She is very good. I fear my own skill is not on par with hers. Nowadays it's rare I get to eat such good food."

"I'm a decent cook," I said absently. "I'd offer to teach you, but I think Shiori has me beat. At least with her curry rice. Do you think she'd mind if I borrowed the recipe off her? I know the soup kitchen I volunteer at would be all over this. _Gods_ this is good."

Food made me even more talkative. If I were ever in possession of government secrets and sworn to secrecy, the only way the enemy would ever loosen my tongue would be to stimulate it with a delicious feast.

The man cocked an eyebrow at me. "You do volunteer work?"

"Don't go confusing me for a saint," I said, pointing a chopstick at him. "I'm anything _but_."

What pulled at the corners of his mouth was a smirk thinly veiled as a smile, of which I was an expert at identifying, and something hiding behind the depths of his unusual green eyes surfaced momentarily. Even if I could read his mind I doubted I could ever understand the complexity of his thoughts – something seemed incredibly off about him; dangerous, even. He could continue dressing in black and red pinstripe suits, but he couldn't dress up the fact that there was something alien about him, something that I was gradually becoming aware of.

For curiosity's and Shiori's sake, I would continue being oblivious. To reiterate the words he left me with when we first parted, '_I imagine we'll be meeting again soon.'_

* * *

Shiori's home-cooked meal had me comfortably stuffed for the rest of the day and I was in a much more tolerable mood. It was amazing what kind of an impact my positive mood had over the sway of time, and before I knew it my shift was over and I was free to go home without harassment from my new boss. The crowded bus didn't do much to dampen my spirit, even after it broke down a short distance from my apartment complex. I decided I'd just walk the rest of the way home, as did several other patrons, and the driver let us off without strife as he patiently waited for the replacement bus. It wasn't too far a walk, and I was certain I needed the leg exercise anyway.

But, true to the saying, all good things came to an end – in this case, the end came to me abruptly and in the form of an ear-splitting shriek that turned my blood cold. The same feeling of dread I experienced when I discovered Shiori laying, dying, on the ground slowly crept up my spine. When I looked over my shoulder I couldn't see anything—and therein was the problem. I was painfully, eerily, alone. There were no people, no cars, no anything. The high-pitch sound returned in front of me, but there was still nothing there.

'_Auditory hallucinations_,' I thought to myself, trying to imbue myself with a courage I know I didn't possess. '_That's all it is. Hallucinations._'

The shriek sounded once more beside me and this time I snapped, screaming, falling to the ground and clasping my hands over my ears to drown out the piercing noise. Everything became deathly silent, and all I could hear now was the maddening sound of my blood being pumped through my veins. What was happening? I had never experienced hallucinations of any sort before, so why had I started now? I heard a gentle crunching sound nearby and I suddenly became aware that I was not alone any longer, but I was too terrified to look up, half-expecting something straight out of a horror movie to be standing before me.

"Stand up. Stand up now."

The feminine voice didn't sound nearly maniacal enough to be a monster of some sort, but neither did it sound lively enough to be human. However, the voice seemed vaguely familiar and I peeked upwards to see a face I barely recognised. I eventually obeyed the command and stood up, albeit a little unsteadily. She stared at me with dull, brown eyes devoid of any sort of recognition or defining emotion—eyes I'd never seen on a person before. Her short black hair rustled ever so slightly in the faint wind. I tried desperately to remember her name.

"Chi... Chiharu... Hata... Hatanaka." That was it. Memories broke through the mental barrier and flooded my mind. I dug my nails into the palm of my hands, trying to muster up at least enough courage to talk. "We used to go to school together, remember, Haru? Last I heard you'd moved to a different part of Japan. What are you doing here? You frightened me."

Haru completely ignored everything I had said, choosing only to focus on that last sentence. "Good."

She held her hand up and every ounce of mental strength I had was forcibly sapped away, leaving me cold and my insides quivering. She side-stepped me before moving forward, and my natural reaction was to take a step backwards so I could keep some distance between us. Her actions seemed planned, calculated, as though she were leading me right into a trap of some sort. My fears were confirmed when I saw two brick walls embrace either side of me and I knew she had me where she wanted me – she was a feral cat ready to pounce and I was but a wingless bird with no where to run or hide. I could see my death in those frigid eyes. I'd been told that alleys were the one area most crimes took place and that I should avoid being near them at all costs, a piece of advice I had trouble heeding.

"Do you know what a psychic is, Itori?" she asked suddenly. "A psychic is a rare individual gifted with a power called Territory. Territories differ from psychic to psychic. Do you know what my Territory does?"

Haru's voice was almost mechanical. Something wasn't right. I shook my head.

She continued to explain. "I have what's called a Pain Territory – it only has a small radius, but everyone inside it is completely defenceless. I can paralyse a person with their pain – but not just any random pain. My victims re-live the single most traumatic, painful thing that has ever happened to them."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my frightened eyes widened more. A drop of cold sweat ran down my temple.

Haru hadn't finished talking, and her voice remained void of emotion. "I know what past memory you'll experience. I was there when it happened. I saw it. We all saw it. I pity you."

"Haru, please—"

Her voice cut into mine like a knife. "If you had been spiritually aware you could have prevented our confrontation, just like you prevented me from having that old lady by resuscitating her. But you're not."

"That was _you_?" I asked incredulously. "_You_ gave Shiori a heart attack?"

"She was only for fun," Haru hissed, spreading the fingers on her extended hand. "With you, I'm serious."

The atmosphere around me suddenly thickened and I felt a strange, warm pooling sensation in my right leg. It was a foreign feeling, something I hadn't experienced in years. Blood circulation in a limb that no longer existed. My gut contracted and I felt as though I were about to throw up, but I couldn't even manage to gag. My body was completely frozen. All unnecessary functions had been temporarily shut down so I could feel the agony unhindered. I couldn't blink or even look away from Haru's blank face and her palm pointed at me. My legs cooled slowly, and the feeling spread to my thighs. I knew what was coming. All I could do was try to brace myself.

Haru's hand jerked suddenly and she snapped her fingers together to form a fist. The cooling sensation disappeared completely.

And then it happened.

_Teeth._

Razor-sharp teeth.

My body shuddered and lurched forward and a horrible gurgling sound erupted from my throat in lieu of a pained, terrified, bloody scream.

Teeth.

Sinking in.

Teeth.

Tearing.

Ripping apart.

Over the roar of blood echoing inside my head I barely heard Haru speak again. "It's a pity that you can't scream. I like that part the best. But if you scream, others will hear. There is one way to stop the suffering, though. All I need is your heart."

She suddenly lunged at me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and threw me to the ground mercilessly. I didn't feel her, nor did I feel the impact of my body being slammed into the concrete. All I could feel was a fire spreading throughout my whole body, with the worst of it concentrated in my leg. My eyes burned too, but not with tears. Haru sat unceremoniously on my lower body and roughly jerked my coat apart. She reached into the depths of her dark jacket and revealed a blade of some sort. Without hesitation she ripped apart the top of my blouse, exposing the skin covering the cavity my panicking heart resided in.

I was going to die. I was really going to die.

"I've never cut a woman before. I don't like breasts. But with you, I don't have to worry too much."

And she angled the blade before pushing it through my flesh. From the corners of my eyes I could see what she was doing to my body, but I still couldn't feel anything. My body slowly become numb. There was no more pain. At this point in the memory I must have fallen unconscious. That's how I felt right now, as if I were drifting through space and existing in some other plane entirely, even though I could still hear and see this deranged woman on top of me, carving me up like I were a turkey. Perhaps this was what death felt like. Peaceful. Inevitable. There was no fighting it.

"Hey!"

Haru stopped her work and looked up in surprise, whipping her head back to the source of the voice. My eyes slowly slid shut and I felt Haru move off me.

_Slid... felt._

I was slowly gaining control of my body again—the disturbance must have caused her psychic grasp on me to weaken. Unfortunately, that meant I would become aware of the new pain I should have been feeling. I groaned feebly in protest and weakly gripped at where Haru had been digging earlier, afraid that my insides would spill out at any minute. Slowly I opened my eyes again so I could see what was happening.

"Who the hell are you?" Haru asked, brandishing her weapon at two newcomers. I could barely make out the silhouettes of a short woman and a very, very tall and muscular man.

_Run_, I wanted to tell the people, but I couldn't find my voice.

"You're a psychic, I can feel it," the male said. "Why are you attacking this lady?"

"What business is it of yours? If you get too close, I'll turn my Territory on you and carve out _your_ hearts."

"I'd like to see you try. Spirit Sword!"

Through the building agony I had managed to lift myself up into a sitting position, and I watched as the large, bright orange "Spirit Sword" materialised in the mysterious man's hands. Even if I weren't teetering dangerously close to Death's precipice, I would still have no idea what to make of the scene unraveling before me. Without warning, the man shouted loudly and sliced his glowing weapon through the air. I almost thought he had gone mad and become a victim of Haru's Territory as well, but then the pain in my chest suddenly exploded and increased tenfold. I cried out loudly and pressed down harder on the bloody wound with both of my hands. A litany of silent curse words passed through my dry lips and I curled up against one of the walls. Haru's hold over me had been completely severed. As painful as this was, it still paled in comparison to the teeth.

"H-how..." I could hear Haru, though her voice was fuzzy now in my ears. The wind picked up briefly, gently sucking my hair into a vortex that only lasted a mere second.

The wind stopped, and the man called after her. It sounded like Haru had fled. The two strangers rushed over to me and I felt their hands on my shoulders.

"Are you okay?" came a concerned female voice. "Here, let me heal you."

She said it as if closing up the deep gashes in my chest were the simplest thing to do in the world, but, after what I'd witnessed, heard, and been a victim of, I realised it was entirely possible the small woman had some sort of healing power. I was already dying; there wasn't anything for me to lose at this point. Slowly I uncurled myself and lifted my shaking, cold hands from my chest. They were completely drenched in blood. The woman wasted no time in placing her own delicate hands over my chest, and a warm, soft blue glow enveloped them and licked at my skin. The pain slowly dissipated, as if her healing powers had some sort of numbing effect, but the bone-deep chill, light-headedness and shakiness remained ever present. I looked up at the woman intent on healing my wounds; she had teal hair and her eyes were the colour of blood.

An alien? If I weren't struggling just to breathe I would have laughed.

"Miss, do you know why that woman attacked you?" the orange-haired man asked.

I slowly shook my head, trying to avoid a sudden onslaught of dizziness. I had _no_ idea why Haru had randomly attacked me, or how she even found me. A suicidal part of me wanted to find her again and question her, or at least get a few punches in before she killed me. I owed her that much for trying to kill Shiori.

The woman noticed the black lanyard around my neck and followed it down to my work ID. Her eyes widened. "Oh! You're Itori!"

She sounded as if she had heard of me before and I wanted to question her about it, but my lips were trembling and my teeth had started chattering in response to how cold I was. I doubted anything I said would make sense. The man seemed to be surprised by this too, and he patted the woman's back gently before standing up.

"I have to make a phone call, Yukina. Will you be all right?"

"Yes, Kazuma."

_Yukina_ and _Kazuma –_ those were definitely two names I'd be remembering. Kazuma dug his phone out of his pocket and left the alley to get some privacy. Yukina still managed to smile gently at me, clearly unperturbed by the blood. It must have been something she'd seen a lot of in the past.

"I heard about how you saved Kurama's mother. We're all so very grateful."

I _needed_ to speak now. "Ku...ra...ma?"

"Oh!" Yukina looked flustered for a moment. "Forgive me, I meant Shuichi."

I exhaled sharply and closed my eyes. So I had been right; there was more to 'Shuichi Minamino' than he let on. To be affiliated with such unusual people, he himself would have had to be something unusual himself.

Something like an alien. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pursue his case or not, since I didn't fancy almost dying again, but I knew that Haru was still out there and that her business with me hadn't been finished. My death was inevitable, it had just been delayed for the time being.

Sunday was bad, Monday was bad, Tuesday and Wednesday were both bad, and today I was almost murdered by one of my old classmates.

All I could think now was that I better have a goddamn decent weekend.


End file.
